More Room
by RuthieGreen
Summary: What happens after William & Julia take that trip to the carpenter's house. I think it was a very, very hard night, & the repercussions are not over (thanks 2 Evilpete). S-9 spoiler- DO NOT READ if you are not up to date on S-9-no seriously, don't read this. For the rest-please read & review. This is my first emotional one-shot. Let me know if I got it right.


WMJO More Room

" **There is more room in a broken heart…"** _ **Carly Simon**_

William escorted his wife past the front desk and up the stairs to their rooms, his hand protectively in the center of her back. They had not spoken a single word since letting go of Roland to his natural father; the entire carriage ride back spent holding hands in aching silence. There _were_ no words. None possible to express nor share between them, only nameless grief and the grotesque sensation of being untenably… _suspended_.

Julia waited until her husband unlocked their door and went quietly in. If they had hoped that the refuge of their suite would embrace them, a few seconds of staring at the abruptly empty-feeling rooms, and hope fled, along with the remainder of Julia's control. She slumped suddenly to her knees before William could catch her, her keening sending eerie shivers through him.

"Oh, Julia…" William bent to hold her shoulders against his knees, feeling desperately out of his element, yet wishing to bear her pain as much as his wished to discharge his own. Julia began to sob, wracking fits that even his strong body could not absorb. He removed his hat, and took her arms so he could join her on the floor, where Julia cried louder and William had no choice but to let go and weep beside her.

Eventually he got her hat off and pushed it aside, and brought her to sit against him, her back to his chest and his arms encircling her snuggly as the darkness crept in to their rooms. Neither knew how long they spent huddled, but Julia finally roused herself and asked for a hand up to stand.

She peered through the gloom, left towards their lounge and right towards their bedroom, but could not uproot herself to move. _Roland in the bedroom crib. Roland in the jumper or on the floor playing by the dining table._ Nowhere was safe to look…safe to remember…safe to be _happy_ again. The shadows conjured, so she looked away. She turned towards her husband to hold him, making no attempt to tidy her face or hair, eyes red-rimmed and dull. She saw William's face was clamped tight, marks of his own salty grief contouring his cheeks. "William, will you turn a light on please?" was all she could ask.

William let a breath out. He pushed Julia's hair away from her face and handed her his other handkerchief, wanting to reconnect with her but fending that off as well…to connect in their sorrow might start them both to tears, and he had been afraid of the power Julia's emotions displayed, having only seen her like that one time before. Wordlessly he unwound her arms from his waist in order to do her bidding, the after putting on a lamp by the couch, he came back to her, still in the tiny vestibule, and took her coat and gloves from her, hung up his own. He coaxed her reluctantly to motion and to come sit by him on the green settee. Spreading a blanket over their laps, he took her hand again and both commenced to stare mindlessly at the set of chairs opposite to them.

William's usually bright and active mind, normally endlessly chasing down problems and solutions, was dull and frustrated. He felt as if he was churning through mud, or quicksand, making no progress and even less sense of what just happened and what they were going to do now. All of a sudden nothing was adding up and he no longer felt grounded, with an agony of pain in his very core. Minutes passed without any other awareness of his body, of his breathing, of Julia's hand in his or her warmth next to him. _Only pain._

"William?... William….what are we going to do?" Julia said to the room as she sniffed and wiped her face.

William heard her as if from a distance, and forced himself to attend to the present. Exactly the question he dreaded. "I…I don't know…" He picked up her hand and kissed it, then brought it to her chest and held it there, hoping to feel… _something._ He searched for logic, for justification, for solace. Finding… _nothing._

After hearing the case clock chime, he changed position, grinding his jaws together as a thought finally pushed its way through, insisting. William fought for composure, swum against the quicksand feeling exhausted. He gave in to the impulse drumming in his heart. "You loved him instantly, didn't you?" he could not look at her when he said this.

Julia felt her lungs on fire, struggled to force a breath out, to form intention and speech. "Yes. I can't explain the attraction. He, he _smiled_ at me and I just… melted…" Julia started crying again, tears sliding down her face to join the rest that had gone before. A small part of her was surprised there was any moisture left in her, as wrung out and empty as she felt.

William allowed the silence to grow while he took deep draughts of air and warred within himself, emotions eventually overcoming his forty-odd years of upbringing, training and natural reticence. His voice cracked, a hint of wonderment creeping in. "I loved _him_ …loved the idea not just of being _a_ father, but being …. _his…_ father." William could not bring his tongue to say _"Roland."_

At that Julia sobbed again, which brought them both out of their stupor to hold each other closely. In between gasps she said, "Oh William. I am so sorry….My heart is shattered…I can't breathe… When he came into our lives I should have known….I _should_ have realized it was too good to be true…" She buried her head on his shoulder, giving back into tears that subsided after a long while.

William continued to murmur "It's all right Julia, it's all right, I am here…." focusing on calming and comforting her, as well as convincing himself his words were, or perhaps will be, true. He was unaware at that moment these were the exact words he said to her when he pulled her off the gallows, only that he needed to say them, for both their sakes. He stroked her and kissed her hair, still reluctant to see her face. "Julia…You said last night to 'love him while we can.' I…I don't think I can stop loving him even if I wanted to." William felt tears well and catch in his lashes. His voice was scratchy, barely audible. "He means… _meant,_ so much to me…"

Moving closer still, Julia reached up to touch William's face, shocked by the depth of emotion trapped there. "Oh, my god, William. I am so very sorry. I never should have…" She stopped, feeling her heart race and a chill settle over her. _Never should have, what? Tried to adopt him? Or pursued his parentage? Or told William…?_ The cold penetrated deeper into her awareness. She stopped, unable to answer her own question, and stiffened in William's arms. Guilt came in waves and pushed up more sharpness like an evil tide dragging vast wreckage onto a previously mild and pristine beach. She forced herself to let the necessary words out. "I did this. I did this to you, _to us._ William, I am so sorry, and I miss him so much. How is that even possible? We did not have him even for a more than handful of weeks…"

William heard her words and felt Julia's movement against him, pulling away, withdrawing from him. He believed he could not allow that, could not survive that, not tonight. He gathered her closer, wrestled her strength against his until she relented. He waited until he could speak without a quaver in his voice. "Julia. None of this is your fault. I don't blame you. I don't blame you for any of your choices, for any of _our_ choices." He has said that last night to Julia over and over again when making the wrenching decision to surrender Roland, made sure he kept it up like a chant in his head, on his lips for them both to hear.

Julia heard him but did not immediately believe, her mind and heart clouded by grief. She knew that the loss of a child devastated many marriages. The idea that they were not really parents nor parents long enough for it to mean that much or matter deeply was a damned lie…It felt to her _exactly_ like she just gave up her very own flesh and blood, that she had betrayed her husband somehow.

 _That it was the right and honourable thing to do—Well, that is what means nothing at the moment._ Julia whispered to her husband, "William. What are we to do now?" The question was poignant, but vexingly broad, and she recognized that as soon as she said it. She experienced a rush of anxiety…knew sometimes things just _slipped_ _out_ ….Was she really questioning their relationship, their marriage, instead of merely asking about how they were going to cope with this loss,or craft their future as parents? She rested her head on William's chest and heard his heart pounding. She stroked him in an effort to soothe him, to soothe herself through touching him.

"Julia…" William spoke softly. He formed his words carefully, bringing up as much discipline as he could muster to steady his pulse. "I don't think we need to decide anything right now. But…" He stalled, mouth dry, hands getting damp, courage suddenly evaporating.

She expected him to keep going, and kept her head down, until she felt him give out a huge sigh, rocking her head up and down with his chest. "William, what is it? Please. Let me know what you think, what you feel…"

William sighed again. He knew they needed to get through this, but all he could think about was sparing her pain, _them_ more pain. To that end he desired protection from the unknown, and knew himself to be a fool, or worse a coward, to cringe from what one cannot control. He cast about for the right words, and decided to tell her something he had never shared before. "I had a dream once… In it you were trying to console me. You told me we never love the same way twice, but that we can love again." This time he sought her face, found her eyes, made sure she was actually looking back. His heart raced again. _"_ Julia. We are in this together. The burdens are for sharing. When we work on problems together it always comes out better. Haven't we learned that by now?" He managed a sideways slant to his mouth.

She shook her head. "William, I don't know if I could stand going through something like this a second time…" _What did I just do?_ she asked herself, shaking again now. _Did I just hit William while he is already down? Take his hope away because I am afraid?_

William inhaled sharply as his heart contracted. _Nor I…_ He made his voice be gentle. "Julia, what do you say to your patients? No permanent, life-altering decisions in the midst of a crisis, do I have that right?" He finally sat her upright beside him, taking both her hands. "Julia. It is late and we should retire." He gestured to the clock, which has been regularly sounding the chimes but none of it registered for the two of them, and she was surprised at how much time had elapsed.

Once in their room, they went about the business of getting prepared for bed without conversation, unconsciously not walking over the space on the carpet where the crib had been. William was already tucked in when Julia came out of the bath, and she saw him distractedly trying to read before putting the journal down when he noticed she was coming towards the bed. He pulled the covers down to let her in and they kissed briefly before he turned off the lamp, obscuring the fixtures and furniture of the room. Julia scooted over to lay closer to William.

They had not made love, not really, since Roland had come to live with them. There was some initial consideration of it being inappropriate to have relations "in front of the child," but neither considered banishing his crib to the other room for privacy. The first time they gave in to desire, their activities woke him up, and it took a very long time to get him back to sleep, breaking the mood entirely. Trying to make love _quietly_ did not work either, so they decided that their focus needed to be on their son, burying passion under parenthood, and genuinely without resentment.

Julia moved away from her husband and felt the space separating them in bed. Last night she took Roland out of the crib and made a nest for him between her and William on their mattress, holding him, watching him sleep, playing with him when he woke. Their attention was only on Roland, and they spoke not at all about their impending loss. She imagined the baby still there, and almost started weeping again. She looked at William, wondering if making love tonight would be healing for them.

She rolled back to align her body along his, feeling his flesh underneath his pyjamas, comforted a bit by his warmth. He hugged her in return, rubbing her back with his strong hands and placing a kiss in her hair. She reached up to him, found his mouth and offered a deep, desperate kiss. She was just not sure if they should fill the emptiness or not, so the kiss faltered.

William found himself oddly detached. Without even asking, he knew Julia was thinking the same as he was—she was missing Roland and recalling their last night with him. William had no trouble at all replaying each detail of his last hours with Roland; he planned on preserving these memories even if they rubbed the wound.

At any other time, if Julia gave even the slightest indication of interest in making love, William was more than ready and willing to capitalize on the offer. Making love to her was one of his life's supreme joys. Tonight was strangely different, and he felt her disquiet as their lips pulled apart.

"William? What is wrong? Don't you want to…?" Julia was curious.

William searched his own mind and found his reluctance. "Yes. But, umm, no. I think of us being with each other as celebrating… I am too, er…disturbed tonight. I love you, Julia. I'm sorry…"

Julia was relieved. "I don't think I want to either."

He almost laughed. "I don't think I _could_ …." William summoned up a smile for her, worried that what had happened today with Roland, what was happening in their marriage bed right now, was a tipping point in their relationship; hoping fiercely if it was, that the balance would go in their favour.

Julia kissed him again, tenderly this time. "I love you William. You are right. We will be all right. It will just take some time."

With that they rearranged themselves facing each other, with a small space preserved between them, each unsure what the morning would bring, and hoping their love, that had been forged through so much time and effort, would survive this new heartbreak.

**END**

 **Author's Note. I went for emotional one-shot this time. I think their characters are resilient; I also know Peter Mitchell can't leave well enough alone….**


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